"Fancy seeing you here, Potter." Lily Evans laughed as she dropped onto the couch in front of the fireplace, jostling into the boy to whom she spoke.

"It's a party celebrating Gryffindor's latest Quidditch win, Evans, why would I be anywhere else?" James Potter questioned, eyeing the drink in the girl's hand with a raised eyebrow.

Lily lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip, her tongue flicking across her lips before answering. "I meant fancy seeing you here, as in, on the couch rather than roaming the room and being your usual genial host self."

James's eyes lingered on the redhead's lips for a beat too long before he shook his head and smiled. "It was a rough game. I just wanted to give my weary muscles a break."

"Ah, I see." Lily smiled back before tipping her cup full of what James assumed to be Firewhiskey back and draining the rest. "Maybe I can help with that?"

Before James could ask what she meant, Lily set her cup down on the table and slid closer to him. She nudged him forward—in his moment of confusion, James complied easily—and wormed her way behind him so that she was settled snuggly between the back of the couch and his body. James could feel the outline of her pressed tightly against his back and closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.

"What're you doing, Evans?" James asked, his voice coming out gruffer than he had hoped.

"Giving you a massage, of course." Lily replied easily. James was struck dumb, unable to formulate any semblance of a reply when he felt her hands slid up his back and begin kneading the muscles of his shoulders. Despite his efforts, his head dropped and he let out a groan. He could feel her laugh, her body shaking against his back.

Her fingers were like magic and James wanted nothing more than to succumb to the sensation of them working paths across his back and shoulders, digging into the sore spots of tension that were coiled tightly from the match, but he knew better. Lily had obviously had too much to drink—Merlin knew she would never be this close to him, touching him willingly under any other circumstances—and his mother had taught him how to be a proper gentleman.

It was with herculean effort that James grabbed Lily's hands as they slid around the front to massage his chest and pulled away from her, sliding across the couch and turning to face her.

"As nice as that was, Evans, I don't think—"

Lily cut him off, her face bright red. "Forget it, Potter. It was…I was…stupid."

She jumped from the couch, bending to grab her cup as she did. Her auburn hair swung forward and brushed against James. He inhaled the scent of her—parchment, ink, and something sweet and distinctly Lily-scented—and reached out to touch her wrist.

Lily straightened and paused, looking at him curiously. Her cheeks were still red and she was chewing on her lip—something that she only did when she was nervous, James knew.

"You aren't stupid. I just don't know that this is a good idea." He gestured to her cup. "You've been drinking."

Lily narrowed her eyes. "I'm not drunk, James Potter."

"You aren't sober either, Lily Evans."

Lily scoffed and flicked her hair back over her shoulder. "I'm obviously unsuitable company for you tonight, Potter, so I think I'll be going now."

James sighed and mussed his already unruly hair. "I just don't want you doing something you ordinarily wouldn't be caught dead doing. Not to say I didn't enjoy it…"

Lily rolled her eyes and turned away from his to scan the room. Before she caught site of Marlene or Mary, Dean Ackerley joined her and James by the couch.

"Nice game, Potter." He said, nodding to James before turning to Lily with a bright smile. "Hullo Lily, you're looking fit as ever."

Lily beamed at him. "Hi Dean. Enjoying the party?"

"Bit quiet, but yeah. My mates and I were just talking about sneaking down to the lake for a swim, care to join?"

James narrowed his eyes. Ackerley was a right git—there was no way he was letting Lily disappear onto the grounds at night with him and his imbecilic mates. Not that James had any say in what Lily did, but still. He watched as Lily seemed to debate her answer, wondering how exactly he could interfere without looking like an arse. He was surprised, however, when Lily smiled and shook her head.

"Sorry Dean, I've got a lot of homework tomorrow. I was thinking about turning in soon. Maybe next time."

James felt the tension in his chest deflated and settled back into the couch. He knew he had no right to be jealous—Lily wasn't his girlfriend, hell, she barely tolerated him some days—but it was easy to forget things like that in the moment.

"No problem, Lily." Dean smiled easily. He leaned in and kissed her cheek before pulling away and stepping back. "Later, Potter."

James barely mustered a polite nod. He watched Ackerley walk back across the common room before turning to Lily. She was watching him, a faint smile on her face.

"It's a good thing you didn't go with him."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"It'd be stupid to go swimming in the lake this late." James muttered, looking away.

Lily expelled a sharp breath. James looked back at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and the flash of irritation in her green eyes.

"I mean it." He said stubbornly, knowing he was flat out lying. There was no problem with swimming in the lake at night—the marauders has just gone last week, in fact—he just hadn't wanted her to go with Ackerley.

"Whatever James." Lily rolled her eyes. "You know what? I think I've changed my mind, a swim sounds rather divine right now."

James shot up from the couch. "Don't be ridiculous, Evans."

Lily scoffed. "Oi! Can't you ever just say what you actually mean?"

James paused, taking in the stubborn set to Lily's shoulders as she settled her hands on her hips and stared at him through narrow eyes. He really hadn't planned for this—it was definitely not the way he had planned on telling her his exact feelings towards her—but he didn't see how he could avoid it any longer.

"Fine!" James shot back, his voice louder than he meant it to be. He brought the volume down, though his tone was serious as he looked Lily straight in the eye. "Fine, it's because I'm jealous! And because I'm so bloody unhinged just being around you! I can't stand to see you with another bloke, Evans, but I don't know how to go forward from here either—"

"Finally!" Lily breathed, cutting him off. Her cheeks were flushed and she stepped closer to him. Before he knew what was happening, Lily had closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pressed her body flush against his and he reacted without thinking. His hands slid around her waist, holding her in place as he took control of the kiss. It didn't matter that they were standing in the middle of a party in the common room. He no longer cared that his body was aching from the match. The fact that Dean Ackerley had just asked Lily out was forgotten as well. In that moment, nothing mattered more than the fact that Lily Evans had kissed James—was still kissing him, in fact—and she hadn't been drunk when she did so.

After what seemed like an eternity—but was, in reality, only a few seconds—Lily broke away from the kiss, though she stayed pressed against him. Her breathing was shallow and her blush had spread down her throat and she was beaming up at him, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"I have to say, Evans, I didn't see that coming." James managed to say, his voice husky.

"May need to get that prescription checked then, Potter." Lily laughed, tapping the frames of his glasses.